


been walking blind in the dark (never seen the sun)

by the_cosmos_lonely (dheiress)



Series: and then they were all eldritch horrors (oh god, they were all eldritch horrors) [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crack, Crack treated as angst, Jealousy, M/M, POV Outsider, They're all office supplies not magical palace ornaments, squint to see the
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24333481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dheiress/pseuds/the_cosmos_lonely
Summary: Martin makes tea for The Beast every day, bewildering Tim in two parts: one, how can he think an eldritch monster of all eyes (yes, The Beast is man-shaped but he’s literally justall eyes) has the anatomy capable of drinking tea, or plain drinking for the matter?And two,wheredoes all that tea come from?(The Beauty and The Beast Fusion AU nobody wanted but everyone still got)
Relationships: Implied past Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: and then they were all eldritch horrors (oh god, they were all eldritch horrors) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756762
Comments: 19
Kudos: 293





	been walking blind in the dark (never seen the sun)

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative Tags: Elias “cursed the whole archives”, Jon unknowingly helped him, Tim and Sasha wwere collateral, Basira, Melanie, Daisy maybe also there, Martin just wants a job to help him support her mother
> 
> I was rewatching a lot of Disney movies with my mom these past few days and then one night, I was plagued with this nightmare. This was supposed to be in Martin’s POV but Tim wrestled the control away from him.
> 
> Title from Keep Me Crazy by Sheppard

“Why do you call him The Beast?” Martin asks, eyes wide with curiosity and Tim almost pities him, this new Chosen One Elias picked out for The Beast to terrorise.

Tim shrugs, or rather, tries to do as much as a matchbox can shrug, “He’s an asshole boss.”

Two tables away, Sasha spew a staple at him, fast and hitting him at his sides. If it had been a match, it would have ignited and Tim could have had finally start a fire in the Archives that would have had hopefully burned the whole Institute down. Alas, he remains a matchbox un-stricken.

He blows a raspberry at her, or he thinks he did anyway. No such sound escapes him but the way Sasha’s stapler of a body curves in a frown reminiscent of her (former) human frown, Tim thinks she gets it anyway. She’s cool like that.

“ _What_ , I’m not going to call him _The Archivist_ ,” Tim says, “That’s like Elias’ pet name for him.”

“You can call him by his name,” Sasha sniffs, “Which is Jon, remember? Your friend Jon? You were close friends enough with him to follow him to the Archives back then.”

Tim does not answer her and instead flops down to the floor and scurries to a dark corner with as much as grace as possible given his useless matchbox of a body.

Of course, he remembers _Jon_ but that just makes things worse for all of them.

* * *

Martin makes tea for The Beast every day, bewildering Tim in two parts: one, how can he think an eldritch monster of all eyes (yes, The Beast is man-shaped but he’s literally just _all eyes_ ) has the anatomy capable of drinking tea, or plain drinking for the matter?

And two, _where_ _does all that tea come from_?

* * *

Tim and The Beast cross paths once, outside the library, when Tim was a newly changed matchbox.

The Beast no longer has a mouth then, his words only heard as deep rumbling rising from the pit of one’s stomach and grasping at one’s eardrums, but something about the way all his eyes widen and hones in on Tim’s matchbox of a body makes him imagine (remember) a tired man, small and premature gray hair touching his temples making him look much older than he was, opening his mouth to say something and Tim just...scuttles forward, avoiding a conversation where he knows he will say something that he will regret.

* * *

He follows the sounds of Sasha’s stapling and finds her in the break room, preparing the statements for The Beast to feast upon.

“You done moping?” she lilts, stapling still continuous.

“Are those fresh statements,” he answers, “where are we even getting those?”

She pauses, staring at Tim as if there’s something she wants to ask him. A beat later, she decides against it, “Martin, well, _not_ from Martin rather he’s the one taking them, whenever some unsuspecting person wanders in to give a statement.”

“Oh, he’s the new bait, then?” Of course, what is he thinking, Martin’s the new recruit, he’s the shiny new human left in the Institute, of course he’ll be taking the statements. If a matchbox talks and says, ‘please fill out this form to dispense your horror’ that’ll be another traumatic horror for any other normal human being, right? _Right_.

“ _Tim_ ,” Sasha says and he couldn’t tell if her tone is tired, irritated, or pitying. He doesn’t know which one would be worst.

“ _Sasha_ ,” he replies instead and, all things considered, he manages to keep most of the bitterness from his voice.

Mostly.

(...It’s just that taking statements for Jon was his job once, you know?)

* * *

Tim cannot remember when The Institute stops being the simple building where he works and starts being a cursed place that turns its employees into magical office objects incapable of leaving. It might have started when he moved to the Archives at the offer of someone he then considers his friend, might have always been that way in the first place.

But he remembers the day he thought Sasha didn’t show up for work. He remembers first the bewildered walking through the Institutes’ seemingly empty hallways and then the panicked running at the sound of Jon’s screaming.

He remembers the relief, the breathtaking _relief,_ he felt seeing Jon prostrate in the ground, hands covering his face, knees tucked in his visibly shivering form, but otherwise unharmed. He was still human then, so he could still kneel in front of Jon and gingerly ask _what happened._ He remembers the not-relief when Jon lifts his face from his hands and the new eye on his forehead swivels up to blink at him.

“ _E-Elias said, he said, it's a curse_ —”

* * *

“I overheard Elias and the big man talking,” Rosie whispers to him one morning, Prime Gossip evident in her tinny electronic voice. He’s lying on her desk and if he had any arms left it would have been flung across his face, the perfect picture of a Victorian maiden with the airs. Alas, he is now a matchbox, so he could only metaphorically remove the arm from his face to stare at her mischievously beeping light.

“Elias didn’t sound so pleased but I swear Mr. Lukas said ‘ _The boy might actually break your curse,’_ ” she thrills without waiting for any of his input, “Imagine the curse lifted, Tim! Oh, to be human again!”

“I don’t think Elias would let himself lose so easily like that,” is the only thing he can say to her, the ringing in his ears hurting him. Elias is a cheat, _he lies_ , Tim knows that firsthand. He slides off the desk and bounces on the floor, not listening to her next words.

“Well a Bet is a Bet, a magical one at that would be more impossible to break, right? Tim? _Tim—?_ ”

* * *

_True Love’s Kiss,_ my ass.

If anything it was just two old bored men with too much time and magic in their hands.

* * *

“But if we just _kill_ him a little bit maybe the curse will—” Melanie urges.

“ _No_ ,” Sasha breathes emphatically.

* * *

This is The Magnus Institute.

Sasha James is a stapler with infinite staples, Melanie King is a puncher that can bore holes through any surface, Basira Hussain is a pen Elias keeps in suit pocket, and Alice "Daisy" Tonner is a bug spray that needs no refilling.

Timothy Stoker is a matchbox that cannot light himself on fire, no matter how hard he tries. And he tries, The Fucking Eye Knows how hard he tries.

(Martin Blackwood is an almost seven feet tall human that Tim sees growing more and more fond of the breathing collection of eyes that is their asshole of a boss for each day that passes.

And if, for some unfathomable reason or another, that collection of eyes shaped like a man starts going soft and slightly smiling at the sight of Martin...well, Tim doesn’t see it.

He doesn’t.)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series already because there's an Anastasia AU (In which Jon The Archivist is Anastasia, Martin is a soft spidery Dmitri, Tim and Sasha shares Vlad's role and we are all unsure if Elias is The Royal Grandma or Rasputin) waiting in the works. 
> 
> My god, what have I become.


End file.
